


Novicing Novices

by spyfodder



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M, dorky humping, sempai crush, trust me it's better than you think, virgining virgins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:51:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spyfodder/pseuds/spyfodder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altair is accompanied by a noob.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Novicing Novices

**Author's Note:**

> Oh no another fic with an OC. I hope it's not as torturous as it sounds.

He had been sloppy. Altair firmly blamed the novice that had been tailing him, but he knew it was his own damned fault. Wincing, the master assassin slowly unbuckled the straps to his left vambrace, fearing the worst when he saw a small splotch of blood on the inner elbow of his sleeve. Altair sighed, hearing the shift of the novice behind him, who was also gearing down for the evening, and closed his eyes, pulling off the hidden blade and armor, setting it aside.

"Anis, fetch water," Altair ordered, tone brooking no argument. Anis shuffled, and was gone. Altair shrugged out of the rest of his armor and top clothes, hissing as his shirt scraped the wound he had received. Bruising a delightfully wonderful dark purple already, the spot that had been victim to the butt of his hidden blade made itself known. Altair felt a flare of anger bubble in his chest, but he stifled it, breathing slowly as he flexed his aching arm. It was not Anis' fault he had not tightened his buckles properly, or that the weapon had slipped while being deployed for attack, or that Altair had been forced to make the second most sloppiest kill on his record. 

Although he was hard-pressed not to put the blame on the boy. Or just punch him for distracting Altair this morning.

"Master," Anis said, having returned, and knelt on the floor beside where Altair was sitting, offering one of two pots of water he had retreived. Altair didn't even have to ask for cloths - Anis wet a washcloth, offering it to his teacher wordlessly, eyes suspiciously diverted when Altair took it. 

"Tomorrow will be more strenuous. You will be alone for this kill, do you understand," Altair said quietly, gingerly wiping out his inner elbow, wishing to Allah Malik was there to tend to his wounds and for him to lean on his shoulder while the Dai told him what a fool he was for taking on a foolish novice who up until three days ago had been a scribe. The boy's athleticism and ability for free running was impressive though, being able to do things that Altair would have never thought of at his age.

"Yes, master," Anis answered, ever so quiet. He had been almost silent since Altair had met him, answering only when spoken to, and speaking in tones almost unheard when he had something to say. Altair appreciated the softness, but wondered momentarily if the young man had any other settings. Along with his soft voice, he had objected to nothing, and had complied with any and all orders and requests Altair had given. The master assassin had a feeling it had something to do with his own notoriety for being such a hard-ass.

There was a long moment, as Altair wiped himself off, drank wine from a skin, and redressed himself, then went to take off his boots. Anis moved then, bold hands faster than the other man's, and unbuckled the boots and braces of throwing daggers around his calves. Altair narrowed his eyes, watching the grey-hooded head below him as Anis worked. An interesting development, he wondered, but did not reject it, as his feet were bared. He frowned though, when Anis reached for a wet cloth, and began to wipe at Altair's feet.

"Why," was all Altair said, and dark eyes glanced up at him from beneath the edge of a hood. 

"Must there be a reason for everything?"

 

It had been silence and averted gazes after that. Anis had retreated to his bedroll, and Altair extenguished the lamps before laying back in his own bed. He wondered of Malik once more, and Maria's whereabouts, attempting to clear his mind before drifting off to sleep. It seemed fate had more in store for him, though, when fingertips pressed to his left inner elbow, and the weight of a body settled across his hips. Altair restrained the urge to growl - Anis was pressing the line for sure.

"I caused this, master, I must make up for it," Anis murmured, fingertips a distracting tickle on warm skin. Altair winced at the minor pain, and he sighed at Anis. He had to keep in mind he was young and still full of fire, and rumours of novices tempting their teachers was not uncommon. He pressed a hand to Anis' neck, who had leaned in to press lips to a bare chest, and sat him back up.

"It has been forgiven, Anis. Some things happen that are regrettable, but we all must move past them. This isn't the way to make up for a mistake or injury. I would be more impressed if you follow through with your assignment tomorrow with a clear head and rested body," Altair spoke evenly, suggesting in hidden tones for Anis to get the hell out of his lap. The novice stared at him, wide eyes visible even in the low light. 

"Master, please, I insist-"

"You would not insist if you did not have another reason. You have listened to every command I have given you until now, and your breath is troubled, novice. If you have an issue, you should not be afraid to confront it, especially with your teacher here with you," Altair said, feeling the pulse under his fingers quicken and skin heat as Anis became flustered, looking away. The hand at Altair's inner arm squeezed nervously, and the boy's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I cannot fathom the thought of killing a man, master. All my life I have been the best scribe, the fastest messenger, and suddenly Rauf thinks I would be an acceptable assassin? I find no logic in that," Anis all but sobbed. He moved his hands to cover his face, embarrassed. "I thought... perhaps if I managed to disappoint you somehow, you would remove me from becoming a field agent. I live and breath for the Brotherhood, and would defend my friends and brothers in battle, but I can't... I would gladly live my life behind a desk and bear the weight of being a coward before I take an order to take a man's life." 

Altair closed his eyes, feeling hot droplets on his wrist, and he rubbed his thumb in what he hoped was a comforting gesture on the young man's jawline. Anis' shoulders hitched, and he let the boy regain his composure before speaking.

"Rauf is good at seeing spirit in you novices, but sometimes I wonder if he misplaces it once in a while," Altair joked softly. "I understand your plight though. And I do believe at times we have too many blades and not enough quills - at least ones who are competant at it. You haven't disappointed me, Anis, but I will reassign you once we return to Masyaf. I will take your kill and there will be no more talk of this, understand?" Altair stared up at the novice, who nodded shakily.

"Yes, yes, thank you master. I am forever in your debt," Anis was suddenly everywhere, past Altair's defenses, strong lanky arms around his neck and squeezing the breath out of him. The master assassin wheezed softly, patting the boy's back before ushering him back to bed, as the morning would be arduous and all good assassins try to get all the sleep they could.

==

Altair had a feeling that the situation between he and Anis had not dissolved, even after the day's events going flawlessly. Anis had provided the perfect distraction, and Altair had pulled off his kill with his usual finesse and elegance, leaving no one the wiser as his victim took an impromptu "nap" in a nearby alleyway.

Altair had bought wine for a minor celebration, and to take some of the words out of Anis' excited mouth. The novice was virgin to drinking, it seemed, as his light complexion turned rosy, and Altair's idea backfired as Anis seemed to talk even more animatedly about his time as a scribe and his admiration for all of his brothers and assassins. And Altair. The master assassin had gotten used to hearing the whispered accolades and praises from his brood, and took it all in stride. Having it so plainly in front of him was making him itch though.

Anis' sudden silence made Altair look up from his map, expecting to find the boy asleep. Quite the contrary - a quick glance to the knocked over jug of wine that was most likely drained and the predatory look in Anis' eyes told Altair all he needed to know. The sudden crush of a body in his lap and mouth against the skin of his neck was expected, and Altair sighed, brows furrowing. Spirited, dedicated, and just like any other youth his age, full of piss and vinegar and determination. Altair rest hands on Anis' shoulders, pushing him away gently.

"I've a feeling this doesn't have to do with making up for anything," Altair said. The glazed, lustful look in Anis' eyes was horribly tempting, and having been away from Malik and Maria for so long...

"No, master, this is thanking you," Anis said, breath fragrant with alcohol, and he situated himself in Altair's lap, hands creeping around the older man's waist. Altair closed his eyes, letting the molestation go for a moment, growling under his breath at the unwanted sensations of sin rising in his body. Anis was disjointed and new, biting too hard, working his hips awkwardly into Altair's stomach, hands not sure if they should stay or stroke or grasp. 

"I suppose one more lesson would not be out of order," Altair murmured, giving in with a suffering sigh. Anis looked up in confusion as he was taken and shoved back, laid out before his master-teacher. A sudden look of apprehension took over his features, but Altair soothed it away with a gentle hand and mouth across the base of the young man's throat. The novice hooked fingers into the other's tunic, legs spreading for dominant hips that ground him downwards into pillows and blankets.

Altair didn't deny the thrill of pleasure he got from the gasping noises he pulled from Anis, the novice drunkenly enthusiastic in his groping and grabbing. Tunics were undone, trousers unlaced and warm bodies were pressed together. The dry, comfortable rasp of skin against skin acceptable for the night. Anis was blushing in earnest, and not from the wine, his eyes closed and fingers winding up beneath the other man's hood, scraping through his short hair to hold onto the nape of his neck.

"Master," Anis gasped when a rough, worn hand scooped his hardening erection up, stroking slowly, making him wriggle around beneath his companion. Altair smirked cockily, tricking his fingertips up along the flared crown of his manhood, pinching gently at his foreskin. Resting his forehead to Anis' shoulder, he rested their bodies together, fisting them both in one hand and sighing in absent pleasure.

Anis came first, predictably, and Altair collapsed onto his back to finish himself off with the lingering thought of a sharp tongue and long, curly brunette hair. He huffed his silent completion against bitten lips, and relaxed, holding onto the warmth inside of himself before it faded completely. A glance to Anis found the boy helplessly passed out and a complete mess. Altair mused about the boy's stamina, and smiled faintly before cleaning his novice up and tucking him properly into bed.


End file.
